


albatross soup

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 04:44:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17176139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: kirigiri tells togami a riddle.





	albatross soup

god alfuckingmighty is it hot outside.

outside. inside. the office building is a stifling muddled gray with malaise and tire, oscillating fans and a pass out nap on the desk top where paperwork sticks to the cheeks type weather.

that’s the office. and thank any possible higher power he’s his very own god in italian leather and herringbone that hasn’t been licked an inch by summer sweat, though he himself isn’t so much an animal as to tempt fate any further; his blazer is draped over the back of his chair whilst the air conditioning of his personal office chills either forearm.

he does not pause his letter tapping fingers to the knocks at the door. “enter.”

and she does so, the shadow swept up this hour to break his cool as she ever always only does. kirigiri’s still the boss of the whole world even now with her hair swept back into a low tie, skirt short and blouse taut to save the heat of layers. “togami,” she says, and the monitor reflection does not leave his lenses. he types. she waits. he types until it is that his temper can no longer resist a short flare at her mere existence among his space. “what is it?”

she lifts from beside herself a manila folder, holding it towards him _just_ far enough to require his lean forward to accept it. “i’ve printed off reports from the past several days. alleged refugee sightings around kanto.”

the folder rests open upon his desk before she’s half through explaining. he scans them over in ennui. “and just who appointed me the secretary? don’t we have an incompetent intern to handle this sort of task?”

kirigiri is pale behind the computer’s glow resisting her, placed so delicate in the late morning darkness of the surrounding room. perhaps it’s grown later than he’s cared to realize. regardless, she’s there, and he in his own realm a foot away, does not watch her motions for they do not exist, only kirigiri standing there with her sweet lilac bun and bangs framing her sweet porcelain face, because she’s kirigiri, and she’s so sweet it just about yanks all his teeth right up from the roots. that sort of sweet. she tilts her head just a fraction left.

“would you like to hear a riddle?”

where his glasses have slipped down the curve of his nose, he glances to her, tips them back up with his straightened jaw to reply, “trying to see how many ways you can waste my time today?”

“no,” kirigiri shakes her head. “i only thought you’d have some fun with it. if you’re up for the challenge.”

his lips purse together. the printed reports gain the rhythmic taps of fingers all down them, all down them.

“shut the door. you’re letting the air conditioning out.”

swift and kind, she nods into pressing it closed before she’s seated to the side wall couch along the left. he swivels himself away from his desk to rest either hand upon his middle, folded, and awaits sharply her furthering.

“a man goes to a diner,” she says, voice a silked buttercream atop the warmest red velvet. “he orders albatross soup, takes one bite, and kills himself. why?”

togami’s lip sneers upward. “and here i thought you’d make any sense at all. how am i to unravel the psyches of the deranged and suicidal?”

the _look_ there is just for him, though he’s already gone into that finger to the chin sort of deep clenching thought to wring of this his gain. kirigiri folds one leg over its matching kneecap, swaying one foot in a metronome’s pace to pass the falling seconds. togami tightens his face another twist.

he’d hate to admit he’s taking more than thirty seconds to think of his answer to this nursery rhyme of a riddle, and it is only such perfect timing that a second knocking bleats against his mahogany office door for him to bark allowance towards, all the while keeping his mind effortlessly trained on the question at hand. why? that simple. just an answer.

“hey, have you seen-? oh, wow, it’s cool in here.” the entryway has flirted into an opening enough to permit his slip inside, fanning the sweat from his hairline with one grateful palm. naegi’s rather dapper in his slacks pulled up waist high to accommodate for their improper length on his barbie doll legs, sleeves at the elbows and top two buttons so un-businessmanly open. but now’s no time for that. no. “it’s sweltering in the rest of the office, _uck-_ oh! there you are, kyouko. did you still need help filing those phone reports?”

“i’m busy now,” she answers, to which he blinks his dumb hazels in the dark of the room between the two of them. when they land on the farther, togami collapses into a fold of the arms, head dropped better downward. “yes, busy. kirigiri’s just come in to play party games.”

“games? what kind of games?” behind him, naegi’s elbow nudges the door into a click, traipsing forward to perch himself beside the top corner of the desk. togami steals a peer at him. kirigiri lilts a repetition of the prior puzzle, earning a hand cupped up to his cheek and melancholy spiraling about his eyes. “oh, that’s horrible. i hope he’s okay… was it because of the soup?”

kirigiri nods. naegi puckers his lips into contemplation. togami flickers with vexation.

it is naegi who next ventures again, “was he sad because he didn’t know what an albatross was? that’s...that’s a fish, right? no, it’s a bird, i remember that from animal herding club. maybe he was a vegetarian…”

“since when are we allowed to ask for a hundred hints to solve a riddle?” naegi glances over the desk to catch togami’s thinned leering, seared beneath it into the submission of a flushed laugh.

from her spot across them both, kirigiri offers after a moment’s contemplating, “i will answer yes or no questions to help you.”

“okay,” naegi nods, sits himself on the edge of the desk much to togami’s silent chagrin. he speaks with his hands motioning before him. “so, he went to the diner, ordered soup, and then ended his life because he didn’t like it-”

“she never said he didn’t like it,” togami interjects smoothly, tilting forth, “did he like the soup?”

kirigiri nods. “yes.”

back between the boys, togami cuffs smugness while naegi meditates on the new information. “okay, so, he _did_ like the soup, but he killed himself because of the soup… jeez, that doesn’t make any sense…” one finger prods naegi’s bottom lip as he thinks. all at once, it snaps up to point toward her, his determined grin behind it. “the man didn’t have enough money to pay his bill, so he killed himself in the restaurant’s bathroom to get out of it.”

“please, if that were the solution to that problem, hagakure would have offed himself ten years ago.” togami pushes his frames into place. “tell me, where is this diner located?”

“yes,” kirigiri says, conjuring up togami’s recoiled confusion until naegi murmurs, “we can only ask yes or no questions.”

tightly, he grunts, resting his jaw in a hand as he taps away more thought. “well, was it near the ocean?”

“yes.”

togami perks back up into posture to nod along, eyes trailing up toward the ceiling to collect himself. he liked the soup. he was near the ocean. the soup was good near the ocean.

if naegi would only keep his asinine ideas at bay for a moment, he’d have time to build a connection between it all. “was the albatross _alive_ in the soup?”

“...no.”

slumping the slightest, naegi thins in even further nonplus. togami leans his elbows onto the desk to steeple both hands. “did the incident of his suicide occur within an hour of eating the soup?”

“yes.”

“immediately following?”

“yes.”

“at the restaurant?”

“did he drown in the soup?”

“shut up, naegi.” then, “...well, did he?”

“no.”

in tandem, they breathe low curses. though the air’s cooled, he begins this day’s first signs of sweat now. togami clears his throat, “had this man ever previously eaten albatross soup?”

“yes.”

his eyes gleam then. “many times?”

“no.”

“just once?”

“yes.”

“oh!” naegi’s hands fly up toward his mouth before shooting one out to a side to beckon togami inward. he leans, drinks in the whispers on his ears, sits back to let the idea marinate. “hmm…” a hand caresses his jaw. “that could have some relation. first, let me ask you, kirigiri, did the man know how to swim?”

for this, she must think a moment herself. “i suppose he’d need assistance if he did.”

“the man was blind!” naegi yelps, beaming with vigor to togami. “i was right.”

he must grit his teeth down to avoid an eye roll, particularly so once kirigiri accepts, “that’s right.”

“so, the man was blind, and he’s eaten the soup _once_ before, but it was different this time, because he couldn’t see it-”

“no, no,” togami cuts. “he couldn’t see it the _first_ time.”

light glints in naegi’s eyes. kirigiri murmurs, “if he’s blind, then he wouldn’t have seen it either time.”

naegi drops the enthusiasm. still, the third is persistent to his point. “he didn’t see it either time, which is why it was different this time than the first. it tasted different. that’s the key here.”

“mhm,” kirigiri praises, sweeping stray hair behind one ear. triumph is naegi’s color.

“alright, so… it tasted different this time, probably not as good as the first time, so the man was upset. upset enough to kill himself. hm...that seems like kind of a dramatic reaction… was the man togami?”

“yes,” kirigiri says, leaving naegi to snicker and togami to scoff. “i’d prefer any fate that got me away from the two of you. now focus. was the man in any sort of relationship with the waitstaff, good or bad?”

“no.”

naegi adds, “was he in any relationship at all with anybody? a romantic one?”, to which kirigiri nods, “he was.”

togami’s eyes widen just a touch. “recently?”

“yes.”

“a wife,” togami confirms. “she died as well.”

kirigiri nods. naegi pouts. “this guy really has a sad life… was his wife killed?”

“yes.”

togami drops a fist to the desk. “he murdered his wife, threw her body into the ocean, then, in an attempt to ease his guilt and resume a normal life, went to a diner to have albatross soup, only to take one bite and realize his wife’s remains had been mistakenly cooked into the soup, then committed suicide in a fit of grief.”

naegi stares at him a moment as he rests in glory, glancing to kirigiri for confirmation, who simply lifts her eyes up toward him and says, “no.”

togami’s expression clenches to humiliated ire.

“oo, but maybe togami was onto something. was his wife in the soup he ate at the diner?”

“no.”

“what about the first time?”

pausing only briefly, kirigiri smirks _ever_ slight. “yes.”

naegi points forward again. “someone murdered his wife and made her into fake albatross soup for him, and since he was blind, he never knew. then he ate _real_ albatross soup, and realized the first soup he ate actually had his wife in it, not albatross, and then he felt so bad about knowing he ate his wife that he killed himself.” fist hitting the opposite palm, naegi nods solid as brick fencing. “that’s it, isn’t it?”

he hardly waits for her nod before he’s hopping off the desk to clench a fist of triumphant justice for himself. “yes! oh, but… that’s so _sad,_ kyouko. do you have any nicer riddles?”

“i’ve got a riddle for you,” spits togami from beneath the hand adjusting again his glasses. “what’s got two arms, two legs, and is so inconceivably annoying that i’m about to kick him out of my office?”

quickly, naegi bows his hot face forward with two palms together, straightening back up in time to find kirigiri trailing her way toward the door. “that was fun. i’ll see you at lunch later, togami. i hope you didn’t plan on eating albatross soup.”

where he rolls either eye, naegi chortles his way back out into the hall with kirigiri as a shadow meandering just before the hallway.

togami feigns study down upon the paperwork on his desk until her stare burns too hotly for him to not glance up toward. “what is it?”

so mild, kirigiri smiles at him, says plainly, “it’s nice and cool in here,” and walks out with a soft shut of the door behind her.

togami frowns to his new solitude.

something tells him he’s been stolen from. something tells him he doesn’t know how to mind.


End file.
